Chương 19

After explaining his plan to Kiki, Oliver managed to get a few hours of sleep. Not much else that really needed to be done. Unfortunately, he had not accounted for Kiki being a snorer when he set this all into motion. They were already both pretty crammed for space, with all of Oliver's supplies also jammed in there with them. That interrupted his already limited amount of sleep. Annoying, since this would likely be the last chance for him to rest until his sanctuary's timer reset.

That wouldn't be for another 16 hours after his last use of the skill. Technically, he could use the final dredges of the time remaining from this use during the period between uses, but it would reset the timer again. Hardly ideal, but that condition had still gotten him out of a few close calls in the past. Once the timer got to the last hour, he started gathering his things. A task made more difficult with the extra body in the coffin with him.

He had to crawl over Kiki to collect extra pouches of salt which he shoved into a replacement, non-enchanted, jacket. He grabbed his spare shovel, which was simply cold, hard iron. It meant no synergy with his skill and, even in a normal person's hands, iron was inferior to silver, but it still at least retained the ability to hit incorporeal spirits. Everything in hand, he closed his eyes and let his mind focus on the task in front of him. Sink the ghost ship. A simple objective.

If the ship went to the bottom of the sea, so too would any remains of the spirits on board. They'd be dragged down, unable to stray far from their remains. It meant the problem would be removed. But sinking the ship wouldn't be easy. Maybe if Oliver hadn't wasted his final grenade earlier killing phantoms only to have them rise again. Alas, his plan required a bit more hands on than chucking grenades.

"You're ready?" he asked Kiki. She continued to snore. He poked her with the handle of his shovel.

"Ugh." The [Neon Samurai] rolled over and glared at him.

"Rude."

"Time to go kill some phantoms.

"They're already dead. I killed them once," she muttered.

"And they were dead before that."

"You get what I mean." Oliver cracked open the coffin lid and examined their surroundings. The beach was now shrouded in dusk. Nearby, phantoms stood watch. They drifted in place, slouched and lazy.

"Careful. Tide destroyed our salt circle," he whispered to Kiki.

"You ready to start a show?" Oliver couldn't see her face from behind her mask, but he was willing to bet there was a grin on it.

"Always." She stood upright, knocking the lid off of the coffin, and strode out. Oliver remained crouched and out of sight. Still, he stayed back to witness the beginning of her assault as flashes of color lit up the beach around them, bathing everything in neon lights. While Kiki's blades of neon wouldn't be able to slice the incorporeal creatures, they did serve as a hell of a distraction.

Her skill allowed her true sword to slice through anything, meaning the enemies would fall before her, confused and overwhelmed.

"Slink." Oliver activated his skill and exited the other side of the coffin. He left his Summon Sanctuary skill activated, better for the phantoms to assume him inside. Without a reasonable explanation for him not reappearing, they might get suspicious. Though, in reality leaving the skill active was actually more suspicious due to how the skill functioned. Anyone with half a brain would allow their sanctuary to fade away again, to keep them safely concealed within.

But he was counting on them not understanding his ability. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Oliver carefully avoided the flashes from Kiki's neon attacks and stuck to the shadows as he circled around the beach. As predicted, Kiki decimated the phantom pirate crew, they flinched away from the neon blades and left themselves open for her true sword's slashes. Oliver had to admit they were uninspiring opponents. As he moved, he uncorked a vial and downed the liquid.

It tasted like an extra salted seaweed smoothie, with chunks that clung to the roof of his mouth. He grimaced but drained the entire vial. When he reached the beach again, he took a step onto the high tide and strode out onto the surf. While the waterwalking potion wasn't entirely vital to the performance of his plan, it certainly helped. It allowed him to move silently and not get his clothing soaked as he approached the stern of the ghost ship.

With all eyes on Kiki's fight and Oliver's Shadow Slink skill activated, nobody so much as even glanced in his direction as he strode across the sea. Soon he stood beside the ghostly wooden vessel. He rapped the hull with a knuckle, just to make certain it was actually solid. He received a splinter in his knuckles for his efforts. The wood, while in horrible condition, was indeed solid.

Those fears laid to rest, he jumped, allowing his extra Strength to carry his body higher than should be physically possible, then grabbed a hold of the gunwales. He pulled himself over the edge and quietly rolled onto the deck. All eyes faced the beach, backs turned to Oliver. Not many of the crew remained back to defend the ship. It looked like the ship's captain had just joined the fight alongside his crew. That meant an easier time for Oliver aboard the ship, but it also meant he needed to act fast.

A glance at the beach showed that the battle had progressed in difficulty. Kiki's sword was a blur of color as she fended off both the captain and four crew at once, chopping down the minions that threatened to overwhelm her while the captain pressed his advantage on her. Thankfully, it seemed that Oliver's grenade yesterday had opened a short cut into the ship's cargo hold for him. A gaping hole in the deck led down into the dark depths of the ship.

Splintered wood was still scattered around, as if it remained untouched from his attack. Apparently, pirate phantoms didn't feel particularly strongly about keeping their space tidy. Though he supposed he might have assumed as much just based on the rest of the ship's condition. The sails above, for example, had certainly seen better days. They waved in the breeze, little more than motheaten rags. Oliver activated his Death Aura, suppressing those few phantoms still on board.

They never noticed as he hopped into the gaping opening. At this height, Oliver held no concerns about his landing. His Resilience batted away more mundane injuries like rolled ankles, allowing him a bit of recklessness. He landed in a crouch and took in his surroundings. He blinked and took half a minute to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Outside he could still hear the battle raging on. Kiki swore loudly and mocked the phantoms. Crates lay strewn about the cargo hold.

A few were stacked precariously but most were scattered about seemingly at random. Oliver used his iron shovel like a crowbar to pry open one nearby. The wood split, giving away before the nails could even pop off. Oliver used his hands to yank back the broken board. The broken wood pierced his fingerless gloves, but his Resilience kept his skin from puncturing. He peaked inside. Fishing nets. Not exactly the awesome loot he had hoped for. But he still thought he might have a use for it.

Despite being inside a ship's crate for ages, the nets were in surprisingly good condition. Not rotted or nasty like the crate itself. He dragged out the nets, laying them in a heap on the ground. Then he went and checked another crate. This time he found old vegetables. Like, extremely old vegetables. Long since decayed, the only clue the black sludge had once been vegetables at all were the blackened cobs of corn mixed in. He winced at the reek. Careful not to get any of it on his clothes, he backed away.

"One more?" he asked himself. He fought the natural itch to spend more time looting the crates for anything valuable. Outside, Kiki defended herself against the phantom horde. No time to get greedy with loot.

"This is why I work best alone," he muttered.

"Less responsibility and consequences only fall on me." The final crate he opened was different from the rest. It lay in the back of the hold and the wood was a charcoal black. He struck it with his shovel in an attempt to pry off its lid much the same as he had with the other two. It took several attempts, but he managed to wedge the tool's blade in the crack. He used the shovel as a lever and pressed it down with his body. The crate popped. A chill descended on the cargo hold.

The noises of a fight outside halted immediately, save for Kiki's string of swears. A smarter man than he might flee. Oliver rationally knew it was the best choice. Finish his job and get out. But the crate's contents tantalized his curiosity. Once again, he heaved down, using his weight against the fulcrum, and finished removing the lid off the black crate. Bones. Hundreds of bones. The temperature dropped and an otherworldly screech sounded above him.